Ariadne/Eames- Time, Time, Time: Part 1: Oceans Away
Title: Time, Time, Time: Part 1: Oceans Away
Author: butterflys_fics/blacksouledbutterfly
Rating: NC-17 (eventually)
Pairing: Ariadne/Eames
Word Count: 1,123
Summary: A collection of snippets that look into their relationship.
Warnings: Mentions of sex and foul language throughout
Notes: The chapter index can be found here.
She doesn’t know when it was that she decided that she wanted him. It happened slowly and all at once until one day she realized that she was looking at him differently, watching the way his lips moved when he talked; the way the corner of his mouth would curl up when he was trying to fight back a smile or a smirk. She became fascinated with the lines of his body, his posture, every single tiny design on the very fabric of his clothes. She committed each detail to memory (like the tiny freckle on the inside of his right wrist and the barely there scar behind his left ear). She watched him whenever they were in the room together. Today was no different.
It had been Arthur who had caught her attention at first with his careful planning and calm demeanor and his crisp, clean look. He was sweet and smart and nice and he didn’t have the type of gaze that made you feel like they were seeing through everything about you. He was safe. Safe just like every other guy she had ever let herself become attracted to. But safe can get quite old, quite boring.
He's sitting across the room from her, lounging out in his chair, his crisp blue tailored shirt bright in the sun, his black pants with his crisp lines tucked close to his shoes. One elbow is resting on the arm of the chair, his chin against the heel of his hand, fingers resting against his cheek. He says something to Arthur but she's not paying attention to what he's saying, she's just watching his face while he says it.
"Ariadne?"
Her brain is fuzzy but she hears her name. Blinking slowly she turns to look at Arthur, tapping her pen back against the notebook resting in her lap. She puts on a smile, as brilliant as she can manage and tries to look as though she's not phased; tries to look like she wasn’t lost within her own thoughts. But Arthur's dark eyes are locked on her face and she knows she's not fooling anyone.
The pen stops tapping against her notebook; her face slowly spreads into a sheepish smile. "I'm sorry. Where were we?"
"We were discussing the job," comes Eames voice as he swivels his chair to get a better look at her. "You however, darling, were oceans away."
"Well, I'm here now," she retorts. Her voice comes out neutral, empty; embarrassment for getting lost swirls around in her stomach.
Eames is already gone and Ariadne is packing up her bag to go when she feels Arthur's gaze on her, a burning sensation against her back. It makes the skin between her shoulder blades itch, makes her lick awkwardly on her bottom lip before she turns to look at him, arching an eyebrow at him in question.
He turns his attention back to what he had been doing, all smooth movements and fine lines. "How long?"
"How long what?"
From where she's standing she can see a ghost of a smile in his profile before he shakes his head a little. "How long have you been interested in Eames?"
"I…I'm not interested in Eames," she insists weakly.
"Of course you are." Arthur turns to look at her, leaning back against the table behind him, long legs stretched out in front of him, ankles crossed, his arms crossed casually over his chest. He is actually the epitome of casual right now and she's envious of him. But this is a subject that doesn’t much affect him so she supposes it makes sense for him to be able to remain much more casual than she can. "You were watching him almost the entire time he was here. It didn’t go unnoticed." He shrugs his shoulders in a smooth, practiced motion. "You seem to do that quite a bit."
She doesn’t respond. The only options are to either lie or tell the truth and neither seems like a viable option at the time. He motions for her to sit down again and she does almost as though someone hit a button in her brain, her system on autopilot.
"I must say, I never would have expected for you to take an interest in Eames."
She opens her mouth to say something, shuts it again with a snap. She doesn’t know what there is to say because there's no logical explanation for it. She can't rightly explain herself why she had taken such an interest in the forger. He's too old for her, too experienced in the ways of the world. He's nothing like her and yet everything about him is fascinating to her, like a book she wants to study from cover to cover, discover the secrets hidden between every line, decipher the metaphors like a scholar, delve into the depths of it and surface for air drowning in knowledge.
"He's interesting," she finally tells him though it tastes a bit like a lie.
"Oh, he's definitely that," he agrees easily, nodding his head so slightly she's almost sure she imagined it. "One of the few terms that could be used to describe him that I'd actually agree with."
"But you don’t like him." It's not a question or an accusation. She says it like she would if she were merely relaying to him what color her coat was that day.
"I like him well enough," he counters. "More importantly I trust him to do his job. I would never agree to share dreams with him if I didn’t trust him."
It makes sense, of course, that if he didn’t trust Eames he would never let him share dreams with him. But before she can comment on that he's pushing on. "But that doesn’t mean I trust his personal choices. He can be quite…asinine when it comes to that sort of thing."
"Can't we all?"
Arthur doesn’t reply to her because he can't truly say she's wrong. He stares at her face for several moments before pushing away from the table, unfolding his arms as he turns back to what he was doing. "Are you in love with him?"
"Of course not," she replies immediately. "I don’t know him well enough for that. It’s a fascination, that’s all."
"Be careful," he warns her as he lifts up his coat and folds it over his arm. He turns back towards her, his face serious. "If you fall in love with him he may not fall back. And even if he does there's no promise of a happy ending- for either of you."
Ariadne simply nods though she knows she has no control over whether or not she falls in love with the forger.
Author: butterflys_fics/blacksouledbutterfly
Rating: NC-17 (eventually)
Pairing: Ariadne/Eames
Word Count: 1,123
Summary: A collection of snippets that look into their relationship.
Warnings: Mentions of sex and foul language throughout
Notes: The chapter index can be found here.
She doesn’t know when it was that she decided that she wanted him. It happened slowly and all at once until one day she realized that she was looking at him differently, watching the way his lips moved when he talked; the way the corner of his mouth would curl up when he was trying to fight back a smile or a smirk. She became fascinated with the lines of his body, his posture, every single tiny design on the very fabric of his clothes. She committed each detail to memory (like the tiny freckle on the inside of his right wrist and the barely there scar behind his left ear). She watched him whenever they were in the room together. Today was no different.
It had been Arthur who had caught her attention at first with his careful planning and calm demeanor and his crisp, clean look. He was sweet and smart and nice and he didn’t have the type of gaze that made you feel like they were seeing through everything about you. He was safe. Safe just like every other guy she had ever let herself become attracted to. But safe can get quite old, quite boring.
He's sitting across the room from her, lounging out in his chair, his crisp blue tailored shirt bright in the sun, his black pants with his crisp lines tucked close to his shoes. One elbow is resting on the arm of the chair, his chin against the heel of his hand, fingers resting against his cheek. He says something to Arthur but she's not paying attention to what he's saying, she's just watching his face while he says it.
"Ariadne?"
Her brain is fuzzy but she hears her name. Blinking slowly she turns to look at Arthur, tapping her pen back against the notebook resting in her lap. She puts on a smile, as brilliant as she can manage and tries to look as though she's not phased; tries to look like she wasn’t lost within her own thoughts. But Arthur's dark eyes are locked on her face and she knows she's not fooling anyone.
The pen stops tapping against her notebook; her face slowly spreads into a sheepish smile. "I'm sorry. Where were we?"
"We were discussing the job," comes Eames voice as he swivels his chair to get a better look at her. "You however, darling, were oceans away."
"Well, I'm here now," she retorts. Her voice comes out neutral, empty; embarrassment for getting lost swirls around in her stomach.
Eames is already gone and Ariadne is packing up her bag to go when she feels Arthur's gaze on her, a burning sensation against her back. It makes the skin between her shoulder blades itch, makes her lick awkwardly on her bottom lip before she turns to look at him, arching an eyebrow at him in question.
He turns his attention back to what he had been doing, all smooth movements and fine lines. "How long?"
"How long what?"
From where she's standing she can see a ghost of a smile in his profile before he shakes his head a little. "How long have you been interested in Eames?"
"I…I'm not interested in Eames," she insists weakly.
"Of course you are." Arthur turns to look at her, leaning back against the table behind him, long legs stretched out in front of him, ankles crossed, his arms crossed casually over his chest. He is actually the epitome of casual right now and she's envious of him. But this is a subject that doesn’t much affect him so she supposes it makes sense for him to be able to remain much more casual than she can. "You were watching him almost the entire time he was here. It didn’t go unnoticed." He shrugs his shoulders in a smooth, practiced motion. "You seem to do that quite a bit."
She doesn’t respond. The only options are to either lie or tell the truth and neither seems like a viable option at the time. He motions for her to sit down again and she does almost as though someone hit a button in her brain, her system on autopilot.
"I must say, I never would have expected for you to take an interest in Eames."
She opens her mouth to say something, shuts it again with a snap. She doesn’t know what there is to say because there's no logical explanation for it. She can't rightly explain herself why she had taken such an interest in the forger. He's too old for her, too experienced in the ways of the world. He's nothing like her and yet everything about him is fascinating to her, like a book she wants to study from cover to cover, discover the secrets hidden between every line, decipher the metaphors like a scholar, delve into the depths of it and surface for air drowning in knowledge.
"He's interesting," she finally tells him though it tastes a bit like a lie.
"Oh, he's definitely that," he agrees easily, nodding his head so slightly she's almost sure she imagined it. "One of the few terms that could be used to describe him that I'd actually agree with."
"But you don’t like him." It's not a question or an accusation. She says it like she would if she were merely relaying to him what color her coat was that day.
"I like him well enough," he counters. "More importantly I trust him to do his job. I would never agree to share dreams with him if I didn’t trust him."
It makes sense, of course, that if he didn’t trust Eames he would never let him share dreams with him. But before she can comment on that he's pushing on. "But that doesn’t mean I trust his personal choices. He can be quite…asinine when it comes to that sort of thing."
"Can't we all?"
Arthur doesn’t reply to her because he can't truly say she's wrong. He stares at her face for several moments before pushing away from the table, unfolding his arms as he turns back to what he was doing. "Are you in love with him?"
"Of course not," she replies immediately. "I don’t know him well enough for that. It’s a fascination, that’s all."
"Be careful," he warns her as he lifts up his coat and folds it over his arm. He turns back towards her, his face serious. "If you fall in love with him he may not fall back. And even if he does there's no promise of a happy ending- for either of you."
Ariadne simply nods though she knows she has no control over whether or not she falls in love with the forger.